
p 



AN ORATION 




Pronounced before the 



YOUNG MEN OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY, 



COMPLETION OF A MONUMENT, 



Erected by them to the 



« , 



CAPTORS OF MAJOR ANDRE, 



AT TAliRYTOWN, OCT. 7, 1853. 




BY HENRY J. RAYMOND 



Nr:VV-YORK: 

SAMUEL T . C A L L A II A N , I' R 1 N T K IJ , No. l\3 NASSAU ST. 



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Class E'kSD 



AN ORATION 



Pronounced before the 



YOUNG MEN OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY, 



COMPLETION OF A MONUMENT, 



Erected by them to the 

CAPTORS OF MAJOR ANDRE 



AT TARRYTOWN, OCT. 7, 1853. 



BY HENRY J. RAYMOND 



NEW- YORK : 

SAMUEL T. CALLAHAN, PRINTER, No. 113 NASSAU STREET. 

1853. 






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ORATION. 



As I happened, a few weeks since, to be wandering 
through the long drawn aisles and beneath the fretted 
vaults of Westminster Abbey,— that venerable pile which 
enshrines the ashes, and consecrates the fame, of England's 
illustrious and immortal dead,— my eye fell upon a monu- 
ment, conspicuous by its position, and proclaiming itself 
" Sacred to the memory of Major John Andre ; who, rais- 
ed by his merit," (thus the record runs,) " at an early pe- 
riod of his life, to the rank of Adjutant General of the 
British forces in America, and employed in an important 
but hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his 
King and Country," at the early age of twenty-nine. 

Placed thus high upon the hst of England's bravest and 
noblest men, by the immediate act of her monarch, the 
name of Andre is handed down to immortahty. He 
earned that great distinction, for which greater men have 
toiled through long hves, and performed deeds which have 
filled the world with admiration, and stamped their im- 
press upon the whole current of the nation's life, by the 
single endeavor to give shape and success to the only act 
of treachery which stains the annals of the Revolution, — 
to purchase the infamous betrayal of that holy cause 
which British power had proved unable to conquer, in an 






open and a manly fight. The inscription upon his monu- 
ment justly characterises the enterprise as "important" 
to his King, and "hazardous" to himself. But its per- 
sonal hazards fell infinitely below its public importance 

Andre entered upon the service doubly armed against its 
secret perils, first by his character as a British officer, 
which would shield him, on the neutral ground, from the 
hostility of adherents to the British camp, and second, 
by a pass from a General high in the American service, 
whose bravery had given him fame, whose fidelity was 
unstained by suspicion, and whose rank would have se- 
cured, for any one bearing his commands, free passage 
through ihe American camp, and prompt access to the fa- 
vor and friendliness of every lover of the American cause. 
Of danger, then, there could be but little, except what 
might arise from his own imprudence or lack of self- 
possession. But the results of the enterprise, if it should 
prove successful, promised to be of the most brilliant and 
decisive character. We, whose judgment concerning the 
events of that dark period of our history, is illuminated by 
the half century that has succeeded, cannot doubt that In- 
dependence of Great Britain was the destiny, not then 
manifest, of these United States. But human vision then 
could foresee as certain no such issue. The war had 
been waged with varying success for a series of years ; — 
the hearts of the most hopeful were beginning to faint ; — 
Congress, deserted by the strong men whose courage and 
wisdom had for a time breathed deliberate valor and stead- 
fast purpose into its counsels, seemed to be halting in the 
great endeavor ; — reverses had overtaken the American 
army in the Southern States ; — the British power of twen- 
ty thousand well appointed troops held New-York, and 
desired, above all things, first, free communication with 



its army in Canada: — second, to obstruct intercourse be- 
tween the American forces in New-England and those in 
New-Jersey : — and, third, to gain possession of those 
large stores, provisions and munitions of war, which the 
Americans had collected, and without which all further 
resistance against the British must apparently cease. 

All these ends would be attained by possession of the 
Hudson River, — guarded solely by the cannon that brist- 
led upon Fort Putnam, and the brave hearts who, under 
Arnold's orders, manned the fortress perched upon the 
West Point hills. To wrest that fortress from American 
hands by superior valor, or by superior power, the British 
troops had proved unequal. And Andre was commission- 
ed to buy with gold, what steel could not conquer : to 
drive a bargain with one ready for a price to become a 
traitor; — to count out the thirty pieces of silver by which 
British Generals and British gentlemen were not ashamed 
to purchase the betrayal of a cause, whose shining virtue 
repelled their power and dimmed the glory of their arms. 

" I would, ancestral England, men might seek 
All crimson stains upon thy breast — not cheek !" 

Far be it from me to cast reproach upon the personal 
character of Major Andre, or to seek to turn back the tide 
of sentimental pity and admiration which bears his memo- 
ry to succeeding times. But, in spite of all this — in spite, 
too, of the laws and practices of war, which have been 
justly styled the " satire of human nature," and which are 
often made to cloak the basest and the meanest deeds — 
the errand on which Andre was sent, in the light of mo- 
rality, and even of that chivalry from which modern war 
pretends to derive its maxims and its rules, was one of in- 
famy. And as I stood, on that summer day, in that sacred 
mausoleum of England's mighty dead, before the sarco- 



phagus which holds his ashes, and mused upon the act of 
our great drama in which his part in Hfe had been per- 
formed, and upon the excess of justice and of fame by 
which his country has repaid the doubtful service he 
sought to perform on her behalf, — my thoughts reverted to 
that sweet spot beyond the sea, on which we stand to-day, 
hallowed by having been the scene of his defeat ; — to j'^on- 
der gentle brook which, guarded by patriotic souls, proved 
to be the Rubicon he could not cross ; — and to the three plain 
men beneath whose rustic garb beat hearts whose fidelity 
gold could not corrupt, and to whose noble conduct, un- 
der severe temptation, Washington, the army, our coun- 
try and the world owe their escape, from the consumma- 
tion of one of the foulest schemes of treachery that ever 
blazoned the baseness of the human heart. 

Young Men of Westchester! you have done well to erect 
this monument, upon a spot so sanctified, in everlasting 
remembrance of a deed so transcendent in its relations to 
the freedom of America and of the world. It is among 
the most pious of the offices of patriotism to perpetuate, by 
such memorials, the excellence and the dignity of noble 
acts. Oblivion strenuously struggles for the possession of 
all things earthly ; and it needs all the aid of letters and 
of stone — of commemorative festival and of recorded his- 
tor\' — to scare away the forgetfulness which settles upon 
good deeds and upon the memories of worthy men. It 
is only a few, at the best, out of the renowned nations 
of the dead, whose names and characters are thus handed 
down to the knowledge and regard of the living that come 
after. Of that great multitude of noble hearts which up- 
held the country during our long and strenuous Revolution, 
— of all those thousands who aided, in the field, in coun- 
cil, at the hearth, by action or by endurance no less 



heroic, with blows, with words, with blood, with tears, 
in the consummation of that great result, how small is the 
number whose names have been engraven on any stone, 
or printed on any page, or preserved in any way among 
the hallowed recollections of that heroic time. In oblivion 
and the grave they rest from their labors, and their works 
do follow them. It is only here and there that affectionate 
veneration, or a patriotic impulse, snatches one and an- 
other from the dreary realms of forgetful night, gives them 
to subsist in lasting monuments, and secures them from 
oblivion " in preservations below the moon." Fortunate 
in this, as in the felicity of their useful lives, are the three 
men whose memory your pious labors will perpetuate ; 
and fortunate in a higher sense is the country which is to 
have the undying benefit of their example, thus handed 
down to the admiration and the emulation of all coming 
time. To them, indeed, it matters little whether their 
names shall be heard ever again among men, — whether 
their bodies shall commingle with the dust, or be scattered 
by the mourning winds which sweep their native soil : 

Tabesne cadavera solvat 
An rogus, baud refert. 

But to their country, and to us their countrymen, inherit- 
ors of the rich blessings they did so much to secure, and 
to the generations yet to come to whom in turn they must 
be transmitted, undefiled, by us, — it is not so. For our 
use and our country's, this monument has risen beneath 
your hands. To us and to our children, are its words ad- 
dressed. And they are words at once of the past and for 
the future — words of remembrance and of hope, — words 
of gratitude to God evermore for his protection, and of 
trust evermore in his guidance and support. 

How is it possible, Mr. President and Fellow Citizens, 



s 

that we should be gathered here, on such a day, and for 
such a purpose, — amidst such environments, and with such 
attendance, — of the cherished survivors of our second war 
of independence, of the honored Governor of our State, of 
this large and imposing array of her organized and officered 
military power, of the beauty and the strength, the grace 
and the worth, of this large, fertile, and influential district, 
every rood of which teems with memories of the Revolu- 
tion — without remanding our thoughts to the incidents of 
that act — that most strange and eventful act — in our grand 
historic drama, which is directly the occasion of our com- 
ing together ! 

The eye, from where we stand, can almost take in the 
whole scene on which it was enacted. The same outward 
world surrounds us, — the same great objects, in the heavens 
above and on the earth beneath, changed only in such in- 
cidental features as the progress of civilization and of cul- 
ture brings with it, meet our vision, which silently watched 
the steps of the actors in its successive stages. The lordly 
Hudson still rolls its waters to the mighty sea, — as when 
that lone ship, rightly named the Vulture, rode its unsus- 
pecting breast, to do its work of treacherous and unkingly 
wrong. The same heavens bend over us, — the same green 
hills encircle us, — the same bright sun and moon which 
gave light to them for their work, enlighten us for ours ; 
and that same steadfast northern star, which, if his soul had 
been susceptible of such emotions, might have shamed, by 
its fixed fidelity, the dark purpose of Arnold's traitor 
heart, as it watched him all that long night of conference 
with his confederate and tempter, Andre, beneath the 
cliff, still 

Unassailable, holds on his rank, 
Unshak'd of motion. 



We stand upon the very spot where the dark plot was ar- 
rested, — where the uplifted arm, just raised to strike a 
fatal and perfidious stab at the liberties of our land, was 
seized, — where Andre, just upon the verge of safety, 
within a step, as it were, of his own encampment, laden 
with the keys of the fortress of American freedom, — by in- 
caution — fruit of his foreseen and almost grasped security 
— betrayed himself to three incorruptible American hearts, 
and was by them returned to the American camp, whose 
honor he had so assailed. And yonder rise the hills, upon 
which, with unfaltering step and steadfast heart, he met 
his fate ; where, amidst the sobs and tears of the very men 
w^hose betrayal and destruction he had sought to compass, 
attended by every observance of respect, and every de- 
monstration of kindness which true nobility of heart could 
prompt, at the hands of his enemies, he gave up the life, 
which, not alone by the laws of war, but by the stern re- 
quisitions of essential justice, for the interests of the coun- 
try and the cause of freedom, had been rendered forfeit. 

I should trespass needlessly upon your patience, were I 
to consume any of the time devoted to these exercises, in 
a historical detail of the events connected with the treason 
of Arnold, or the arrest, trial, and execution of Andre. 
You have grown up in a familiarity with these events to 
which I cannot pretend. They form so large a part of the 
local history of this vicinity — they have entered so deeply 
and so imperishably into the records of the whole country 
— and they were so eloquently rehearsed in your hearing 
when the corner-stone of this memorial was laid, upon the 
last anniversary of the nation's birth, that Hack all pretext 
for dwelling upon them now. I propose, therefore, nothing 
more than such brief reference as the time remaining will 
permit, to one or two points in connection with them, 

2 



10 

which, from their importance, or from the differences of 
opinion to which they have given rise, seem most worthy 
of notice on such an occasion as this. 

I have already spoken of the profound pity which was 
felt for Andre, among those for whose heart-strings and 
innermost life he had been feeling with treacherous and 
poisoned weapon, — and of the tide of sympathy, nowhere 
deeper or stronger in its current than among the American 
people, which is bearing his memory, as that of an honored 
and a martyred hero, to succeeding times. Something of 
this is due to the kindly regard which misfortime always 
awakens in manly natures ; more, I venture to suspect, to 
the romantic incidents in which liis character and adven- 
ture have been clothed, and to the personal (qualities, ac- 
complishments, and experiences in life connected with his 
name. He was young, ambitious, accomplished, brave 
and unfortunate. He had entered the army to escape, in 
the tumult and excitement of war, painful memories of a 
lady whom he loved, but who had married his rival. He 
was handsome, fond of letters, music, and the arts — frank 
and manl}"^ in his bearing, and zealous for personal distinc- 
tion in the service of his king. And underneath all this — 
amid the cares, the labors, the perils of war, through all 
the stir and anxiety of his outward life — lived ever the 
memory of his early love ; when taken prisoner at St. 
John's, on the outlet to Lake Champlain, by the Ameri- 
cans, under Montgomery, he savetl the picture of his lost 
HoNORA, and deemed that " compensation enough for all 
his sorrows ;" and after he had stepped off the brink of 
that deep descent, from which for him there was no return 
— during his detention in the American camp awaiting his 
trial — after even his sentence, waiting only for the sum- 
mons to meet the last and worst extreme of fate, remem- 



11 



brance of his early sorrow soothed his soul; filled his heart 
with the resignation of a subdued and chastened courage ; 
led him to seek relief in cheerful conversation, in kindly 
thought for others, in exercise of the art he had come to 
love; and prompted a quick, but not importunate concern 
for the manner of his death, and the tradition thereof which 
might go down to the knowledge and the judgment of pos- 
terity. When have such qualities, such experiences, such 
misfortunes — consecrated by sudden death — ever failed to 
stir gentle hearts, beating in the breast of man or woman, 
to pity and regretful love ? Nor is there any reason why 
such sentiments should lack indulgence, unless they come 
in conflict with justice, or prompt to undeserved censure of 
others, or to a disregard of that higher love of country, 
which should ever overbear all personal and all sentimen- 
tal considerations. I venture to think that commiseration 
for the fate of Andre, both in his land and in our own, has 
led to such injustice :— that it has stimulated on the one 
side, and, on the other, secured toleration for, base slanders 
upon the heroic and deserving dead ;— and that due regard 
for the patriotic act of the noble Three, whose monument 
this day rises to record their worth, as well as for the un- 
stainable whiteness that hangs imperishably over the name 
of Washington, demands, if not its abatement, at least, 
some more accurate definition of the limits within which it 
should be indulged. 

And in this connection it is not easy to forget the con- 
trast presented in the opposing armies, under circumstan- 
ces essentially the same. From the moment of Andre's 
arrest he was treated with unvarying kindness and consid- 
eration. No restraint, not essential to the security of his 
person, was for a moment imposed ; not a harsh or unfeel- 
ing expression, from officer, soldier or citizen, ever grated 



12 

on his ears or chilled the youthful current of his heart ; — 
books, paper and ink were at his command : he wrote 
freely even to the British Commander-in-Chief; — messa- 
Qfes of kindness and relics of remembrance to his friends 
were promptly sent forward ; — and a sad solemnity, full 
of tenderness and of pity, presided at his execution. — 
From all that vast multitude, assembled on yonder heights 
to see him die, arose no word of exultation ; no breath of 
taunt or triumph broke the sereneness of the surrounding 
air; melancholy music gave voice to melancholy thoughts; 
tears dimmed the eyes and wet the cheeks of the peasant 
soldiers by whom he was surrounded ; and so profound 
was the impress of the scene upon their patriot hearts, that 
long succession of years could not wear it out, nor seal 
the fountains of sorrow it had unclosed.* At an earlier 
stage of the Revolution, Nathan Hale, Captain in the 
American army, which he had entered, abandoning bril- 
liant prospects of professional distinction, for the sole pur- 
pose of defending the liberties of his countr}^, — gifted, 
educated, ambitious, — the equal of Andre in talent, in 
worth, in amiable manners, and in every manl}^ quality, 
and his superior in that final test of character, — the mo- 

* I have heard an anecdote from my friend, Dr. Horace Green, of 
New- York, which illustrates the profound impression which Andre's ex- 
ecution made upon the American soldiers who took part in it. In his 
youth, an old man lived in the town of Rutland, Vt., who had been one of 
the guard which attended Andre to the scaffold, and whose age he used 
frequently to solace by playing for him upon the flute. The old man 
would always insist on his playing a simple and melancholy air, popu- 
hirly known as the Blue Bird., which was among the music played as a 
death-march during the execution; and streaming tears and choking 
8ol)s always attested the power of the sad remembrances which it awak- 
ened in his mind. 



13 

tives by which his acts were prompted and his life was 
guided, — laid aside every consideration personal to him- 
self, and entered upon a service of infinite hazard to life 
and honor, because Washington deemed it important to 
that sacred cause to which both had been sacredly set 
apart. Like Andre he was found in the hostile camp ; 
like him, though without a trial, he was adjudged a spy : 
— and like him he was condemned to death. And here 
the likeness ends. No consoling word, — no pitying or re- 
spectful look, cheered the dark hour of his doom. He was 
met with insult at every turn. The sacred consolations of 
the minister of God were denied him ; his Bible was taken 
from him ; with an excess of barbarity hard to be parallel- 
ed in civilized war, his dying letters of farewell to his 
mother and sister were destroyed in his presence ; and 
uncheered by sympathy, mocked by brutal power, and at- 
tended only by that sense of duty, incorruptible, undefil- 
ed, which had ruled his life, — finding its fit farewell in the 
serene and sublime regret that he " had but one life to lose 
for his country," — he went forth to meet the great dark- 
ness of an ignominious death. The loving hearts of his 
early companions have erected a neat monument t(j his 
memory in his native town ; — but beyond that little circle, 
where stands his name recorded ? While the Majesty of 
England, in the person of her Sovereign, sent an embassy 
across the sea to solicit the remains of Andre at the hands 
of his foes, that they might be enshrined in that sepulchre 
where she garnei's the relics of her mighty and renowned 
sons, — " splendid in their ashes and pompous in the 
grave" — the -children of Washington have left the body 
of Hale to sleep in their unknown tomb, though it be on 
his native soil, — unhonored by any outward observance, 
unmarked by memorial stone. Monody, eulogy, — monu- 



14 

ments of marble and of brass, and of letters more enduring 
than all, — have, in his own land and in ours, given the 
name and the fate of Andre to the sorrowing remem- 
brance of all time to come. American s^enius has celebra- 
ted his praises, — has sung of his virtues and exalted to 
heroic heights his prayer, manly but personal to himself, 
for choice in the manner of his death, and his dying chal- 
lenge to all men to witness the courage with which he met 
his fate. But where, save on the cold page of history, 
stands the record for Hale V Where is the hymn that 
speaks to immortality, and tells of the added brightness 
and enhanced glory, when his equal soul joined its noble 
host ? And w^here sleeps the Americanism of Americans, 
— that their hearts are not stirred to solemn rapture at 
thought of the sublime love of country which buoyed him 
not alone, ' above the fear of death,' but far beyond all 
thought of himself, of his fate and his fame, or of anything 
less than his country, — and which shaped his dying breath 
into the sacred sentence w^hich trembled at the last upon 
his unquivering lip '? 

It would not, perhaps, befit the proprieties of this occa- 
sion were I to push the inquiry, into the causes of so great 
a difference in the treatment which Andre received at the 
hands of his American captors, whose destruction he had 
come, not to conquer, but to betray, — and that which the 
British bestowed upon Nathan Hale. Much of it was, 
doubtless, due to the difference in the composition of the 
opposing armies, — the one of hirelings in the service of 
power, seeking the conquest of freemen, — the other of 
freemen defending their liberties, and keenly alive to the 
sensibilities and affections — the love of home, of brethren, 
of fellow men — which alone sustained them in the unequal 
strife. I have introduced it now, not for the sake of com- 



15 

plaint, nor even for the worthier purpose of challenging, as 
unpatriotic and un-American, the habit of allowing all our 
sympathy and all our tears to be engrossed by an accom- 
plished and unhappy foe, — who failed in a service of 
doubtful morality, undertaken for the sake of promotion 
and of personal glor}' ; — in'oblivion of what is due to one 
of a nobler stamp, — our own countryman, who knew no 
object of love but his and our country; — who judged "ev- 
ery kind of service honorable, which was necessary to the 
public good ;" and who, by genius, by character, by pat- 
riotic devotion and by misfortune, has paramount claims 
upon the love and cherishing remembrance of American 
hearts. For this injustice partakes but too much of the 
common lot. " The iniquity of oblivion," saith Sir Tho- 
mas Browne, " blindly^ scattereth her poppy, and deals 
with the memory of men without distinction to merit of 
perpetuity. Who knows whether the best of men be 
known, or whether there be not more remarkable persons 
forgot, than any that stand remembered in the known ac- 
count of time? " But in one or two points, this sympathy 
for Andre, in its excess, has occasioned gross injustice to 
character and interests, which it is the duty of Americans 
to cherish and defend. 

The King of England, in the first dispatch to Sir Henry 
Clinton, after the details of Andre's adventure had been 
received, lent his sanction to the opinion that he had been 
" unjustly " put to death ; and that " the public never 
could be compensated for the vast advantages which must 
have followed from the success of his plan." British his- 
torians have carefully echoed the royal sentiment, though 
they have shrunk from the eulogies by which His Majesty 
saw fit to welcome and caress the traitor. And the Brit- 
ish muse, by the lips of a female poet, in lines breathing 



16 

more of malignity than of inspiration, after branding 
Washington for sanctioning the execution, as the " cool, 
determined murderer of the brave," ventured a prophecy, 
which Time has signally failed to fulfil, that 

Infamy with livid hand should shed 
Eternal mildew on his ruthless head.* 

Such sentiments, whatever their justice, would not come 
with grace from the brutal executioners of Nathan Hale. 
They have long since perished from the general memory ; — 

*The reference here is to a Monody on Major Andre by Miss 
Anna Seward, dedicated to Sir Henry Clinton, and published soon 
after the execution. Curiosity may be gratified by the following passage 
from the poem, in which Washington is mentioned in an unusual strain : 

" Oh Washington ! I thought thee great and good, 

Nor knew thy NsRo-thirst of guiltless blood ! 

Severe to use the power that Fortune gave. 

Thou cool determined Murderer of the Brave ! 
****** 

Remorseless Washington ! the day shall come 

Of deep repentance for this barbarous doom ! 

When injurd Andre's memory shall inspire 

A kindling army with resistless fii"e ; 

Each falchion sharpen that the Britons wield, 

And lead their fiercest Lion to the field ! 

Then, when each hope of thine shall set in night. 

When dubious dread and unavailing flight 

Impel your host, thy guilt-upbraided soul 

Shall wish untouched the sacred life you stole ! 

And when thy heart appalled and vanquished pride 

Shall vainly ask the mercy they deny'd, 

With horror shalt thou meet the fate they gave, 

Nor Pity gild the darkness of thy grave ! 

For Infamy, with livid hand shall shed 

Eternal mildew on thy ruthless head." 



17 

and yet there lingers, in here and there a mind, a feehng, 
that the execution of Andre was needless and therefore 
cruel; — that his release would have wrought no injury to 
the American cause ; and that, at all events, his earnest 
wish for a soldier's rather than a felon's death, might pro- 
perly have been indulged. 

I am persuaded that those in whose minds such suspi- 
cions find a lodgment, underrate the character of Wash- 
ington, and have not taken due pains to make real to their 
apprehensions the circumstances by which he was sur- 
rounded. The whole remaining strength of the Revolution 
was gathered on the Hudson. Its last hope, — its sole 
reliance, rested there. West Point had become the citadel 
of libert}^, — sole tower not yet overthrown, — around which 
clustered the anxieties and the labors, the fears and the 
hopes, of Him on whose right arm for years the American 
cause had securely reposed. Suddenly, — without note or 
warning, — more sudden far than any meteor flash upon the 
brow of night, and more startling than any crashing thun- 
derbolt from the sunlit sky, — was disclosed a mine which 
months of treason had prepared, and which another in- 
stant, — another step of the detected agent in its construc- 
tion, would have exploded with final ruin to the sacred 
cause. A General, high in command, renowned for his 
brilliant exploits in the field, trusted implicitly, and last of 
all to be suspected of infidelity to the cause in which he had 
won his honors and shed his blood, was found to have been 
groping for months in that lowest deep of degradation, — 
to have been hnggling with the enem}"" for a price for his 
treason, and finally to have bargained to place the Ame- 
rican cause for pay at the mercy of the foe. The secrecy 
with which Arnold, for eighteen months before, had been 
carrying on negotiations with the British General, through 

3 



18 

Major Andre, and the consummate and accomplished hy- 
pocrisy by which he had secured, without suspicion, from 
the hands of Washington, precisely that position which 
would make his treason most fatal to the cause he pre- 
tended to love, and thus enhance its price, attest the as- 
tounding character of the alarming facts then first revealed 
to the knowledge of the great Commander. On the 12th 
of September — the very day after that on which he had 
gone down to Dobbs's Ferry for the purpose of settling, in 
a conference with Andre, the terms and details of his 
treason, — Arnold wrote a letter to General Greene, full 
of patriotic devotion, and pervaded by a thorough zeal for 
the honor and success of the American cause. That letter, 
so far as I am aware, has never hitherto been published. 
I am indebted for it to my esteemed friend. Prof. Greene, 
a direct descendant of the illustrious officer to whom it 
was addressed. As it throws still stronger light upon the 
character of Arnold, — places in still bolder relief the un- 
matched and unmatchable audacity of that hypocrisy in 
which he lived and moved and had his being, — perhaps 
you will permit me to read it, from the original manuscript, 
which I hold in my hand. It bears date : 

Head Quarters, Robinson House, ) 
Sfptanbcr 12th, 1780. ) 

Dear Sir : — Your favor of the 7th, conveying to me an account of our 
misfortunes to the southward, vras delivered me on the 8th. 

I am happy to find that General Gates' information was so ill-founded. 
It is an unfortunate piece of business to that Hero, and may possibly blot 
his escutcheon with indelible infamy. It may not be right to censure 
character at a distance, but I cannot avoid remarking that his conduct 
on this occasion has in no wise disappointed my expectations, or predic- 
tions on frequent occasions; and notwithstanding the suggestions of his 
friends, that he had not retreated to the border of Virginia, he must have 
been at a great distance and fully secure from danger, as he had no ad- 
vices of the retreat of the Maryland troops for at least four days. 



19 

Yours of the 8th, by Capt. Van der Horst and Lieut. McCall, were 
delivered me by those gentlemen on the 9th. 1 have endeavored to render 
their situation pleasing to them, during their short stay with me ; which 
respect I shall always be happy to pay to any gentleman who entitles 
himself to your introduction and recommendation. 

It is a matter much to be lamented that our Army is permitted to 
starve in a land of plenty. There is a fault somewhere; it ought to be 
traced up to its authors, and if it was prepense, they ought to be capitally 
punished ; that is, in my opinion, the only means left to procure a regular 
supply to the Army in future. 

Where shall I procure paper for the garrison as well as for my office 1 
No returns can be made till a supply is sent. Col. Pickering, in a letter 
of the 28th, informs mc, that he has not yet received the stores in his 
hands or money to purchase any with. 

With sentiments of the most sincere regard and affection, I am, dear Sir, 
Your obedient and humble servant, 
Major-General Greene. g ARNOLD. 

Consider that this epistle, — burning with indignation at 
the apparent misconduct of Gates, cordial in the extreme 
in its personal courtesy towards General Greene, solici- 
tous for the comfort of the army, resentful towards those 
whose misconduct had involved it in want, was written the 
day after his first attempt to hold a personal interview with 
Major Andre, — upon his return to head quarters from the 
scene he had appointed for it, and in the midst of such 

thoughts as such incidents would naturally engender ; 

think upon the impenetrable hypocrisy of the man who, 
on the instant of returning baffled from such an errand, 
could coolly speak or dream of any escutcheon but his own 
being "blotted with indelible infamy;"— and you can 
judge how secure must have been his hold upon the confi- 
dence of Washington, and how thick was the dark doubt 
of all honor and all faith, into which the apprehensive fears 
of that great leader must have plunged his mind, when the 
fact of Arnold's treason first broke upon his sight. 
" Whom can tve trust now?'' were the simple words he ad- 



20 

dressed to La Fayette ; but they imply a dread distrust; — 
they signalize the beginning of a gloomy despair ;— they 
point to the fact which imposed on him the supreme duty, 
from which there was no escape, of crushing by all the 
terrors of martial law, whatever of vitality might still sur- 
vive, in either army, of the portentous plot. 

By the clearest facts and the plainest law, Major Andre 
was proved to be a spy. The sophistries by which such a 
conviction was for a time resisted, vanished before the 
sound sense of his distinguished judges — were scattered to 
the winds even by his own confessions. That he was more 
than this, — that he was a Um'pter as well as a spj/. — that 
his errand was to corrupt as well as to explore, — that in 
his possession were found the purchased honor of an Amer- 
ican general, the sealed compact for the betrayal of the 
American cause, as well as unlawful knowledge of the 
position of their troops, was, in the eye of justice as well 
as of safety, only an infinite aggravation of his offence. 
That he had been invited by Arnold to the interview and 
the bargain, — that he only met advances made, and merely 
aided in ripening treason, of which the seeds had been 
sown by others, or had sprung spontaneously in congenial 
soil, could not diminish in the least either the criminality 
or the audacity of the endeavor, while it augmented vastly 
its danger to the American cause. Extraordinary pains 
had been taken by the British to create the belief in the 
American camp, that other American officers, equally trusted 
with Arnold, shared his sentiments and would, on proper 
occasion, imitate his example. The sad inquiry, "Whom 
can we trust now?" proves that the very ripeness which, 
without arousing suspicion, the great plot had reached — 
the boldness with which Andre had gone forward in ar- 
ranffino; the details of its consummation, had excited in the 



21 

mind of Washington the apprehension that this might be 
so — and produced the conviction that all embers ot" the 
conspii-acy must be relentlessly trodden out by the iron 
heel of martial law. Was this a time for any shrinking 
from duty, which should encourage another British officer 
to attempt to gather up the threads of the broken web, and 
to complete the plot which Andre's capture had disar- 
ranged? What single reason, then, for clemency existed? 
What solitary fact, in any aspect of the case, would have 
excused Washington for softening, by a single shade, the 
dread sentence of the law which Andre had braved ? 
Shall it be said that his youth, his accomplishments, his 
amiable character, his intellectual and professional pro- 
mise, should have saved his Hfe? What would that be, but 
to promise impunity, in proportion to the supreme fitness 
of the emissary for his delicate and important work ? 
Such pleas, and the anxiety to find them, are honorable to 
the softer instincts of our nature : — but they consort not with 
the stern, unbending sense of duty which alone can lead a 
revolution, or conduct a great nation, through difficult and 
perilous paths, to independence and lenow n. The holiest 
cause may be ruined under the holiest of sensibilities. 
The Hungarian people perished under that softness of 
heart which spared treason, in sparing life. Washington, 
fortunately for us, knew no pity that stood in the path of 
duty; and calmly put aside every sympathy and every 
sensibility, that tempted him to forgetfulness of his coun- 
try's weal. 

I have said that the ripeness oi the extended plot which 
the capture of Andre revealed, — the boldness with \a hich 
he had gone forward in its preparation, — the excess of con- 
fidence, leading to the momentary loss of self-possession, 
which alone at the last betrayed his real character, — com- 



22 

bined to deepen and to strengthen a wide distrust in Amer- 
ican fidelity, all the more terrible because of its vagueness 
and calling therefore for all the terrors of martial law. 
History presents few instances of so great a scheme, cov- 
ering so large a space, involving such vast results, requiring 
secresy so profound and at the same time specification so 
precise, — carried so triumphantly to the very edge of suc- 
cess, — and then defeated, at the last moment, by the slight- 
est of all possible causes, and the very one least to have 
been expected. Andre had been corresponding with Ar- 
nold for more than a year upon the subject of the medi- 
tated treason. That, during all that time, no letter should 
have miscarried, — that nothing should have been said or 
done to excite suspicion ; that Arnold should have ob- 
tained from Washington by earnest solicitation, against 
his original purpose and in direct contradiction to the 
whole tenor of Arnold's active and brilliant life, command 
ofa garrison condemned to inactivity, when his services were 
needed and at first appointed in the field, without awaken- 
ing in the sagacious mind otthe great commander the least 
distrust of his motive ; — that Arnold and Andre should 
have succeeded in appointing a meeting for the 11th of 
September at Dobbs' Ferry, and that, too, by the most open 
means, through a third party, and he an American officer ; 
that both should have gone in open day to the place ap- 
pointed, under observation of both armies, their actual 
meeting being prevented by accident, — Washington him- 
self being immediately apprised by Arnold of the visit 
he had made to a suspicious point ; — that the whole plot 
should have been rearranged, a new meeting agreed upon 
and actually held by night, and all the details of the trea- 
son, including its price, finally fixed and the precise time 
and mode of its accomplishment settled between them: — 



as 

that Andre should have remained within the enemy's 
Hnes, with the knowledge of several adherents of that 
enemy's cause, for a day and a night without detec- 
tion: that he should afterwards have openly crossed 

the ferry; met and conversed with various persons ; escaped 
the vigilance of Col. Livingston ; satisfied the uneasy 
scruples of the watchful Capt. Boyd; passed a night in his 
immediate neighborhood; — and then rode on horseback 
through nearly the whole of that district, the neutral ground, 
so full of peril, without interruption, and reached safely 
the very border of the British camp ; — that the great con- 
spiracy should have thus been carried to the very verge of 
completion and of execution, without coming to the knowl- 
edge, or even exciting the slightest suspicion in the breast, 
of Washington, or any of his associates, is among the most 
marvelous of the incidents of this strange history. And 
yet the very completeness of its success thus far, begat 
that excessive confidence in the mind of Andre, to which 
his capture and the defeat of his plot were due. And this 
brings us to the specific act, which this monument you have 
built is designed to commemorate. 

When Andre, you will remember, reached the foot 
of yonder . hill, he was met, stopped, and his char- 
acter and business challenged by the three Americans, 
Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart, whose names 
have come to be associated imperishably with their coun- 
try's glory. He had in his possession, couched in the 
clearest and most explicit terms, a pass from General Ar- 
nold. That pass had been closely scrutinized by Captain 
BoYB, and had satisfied his scruples. It was quite certain 
that it would prove equally potent with any other adher- 
ent of the American cause. If Andre, then, had answered 
the challenge of his, unknown captors by producing this 



24 

pass, his safety would have been secured : — for if they 
were Americans, the pass would command their obedience : 
— if they should prove to be British, they would take him 
at once to the British camp, which it was the sole desire 
of his heart to reach. In either event, this plain and ob- 
vious course would have evaded every chance of danger. 
Why, then, did he not take it? What fatality — call it 
providence, rather, — led him to give the only answer 
which would inevitably lead to his destruction? The 
very confidence which his previous success — liis near ap- 
proach to the place of safety, had engendered, wrought 
his undoing. His first words savored of exultation, and 
committed him beyond all possibility of retraction. " 1 
hope," said he, "that you belong to our part}^;" "What 
party is that," was the prompt inquiry ; and even this did 
not reveal to him the perils among which he was so rashly 
pushing. He answered by avowing himself a British offi- 
cer, out of the country on particular business, and by urg- 
ing the necessity of his immediate departure.* In an instant 

* Capt. HiKAM Paulding, son of John Paulding one of Andre's 
captors, now a gallant and accomplished officer in the U. S. Navy, has 
related to me, since the delivery of this address, an incident curious in 
itself and of some historic interest, as aifording some explanation of An- 
dre's extraordinary imprudence in assuming his captors to be adherents 
of the British cause. He states that his father himself ascribed it to the 
fact that, at the time, he wore the British military coat, — which arose 
from a singular circumstance. Five or six days Ijefore the capture of 
Andrk, Paulding had lieen liy a British foraging party, and taken to 
New- York, where he was confined in the old Dutch Church. Wearing at 
the time a very good coat, one of the British soldiers present, a refugee, 
compelled him to exchange with him. Towards night Paulding told 
one of his comrades that he did not mean to stay there until a high wall, 
then in process of erection, should be completed, because if he did he 



25 

the abyss over which he hung was revealed to his sight, — 
but it was too late to withdraw from its brink. He hud 
then to encounter the stern patriotism of the men whom he 
had so thoughtlessly misjudged, and whose fidelity he now 
tried to overcome. But he soon found the hopelessness of 
the task. He no longer had to deal with an ambitious, 
selfish, mercenary officer. He found himself face to face 
with a new type of character; — he met for the first time 
in his life the Peasant Patriotism of America, — the con- 
quering power of the Revolution, — the essential element, 
then, as now and evermore, of American greatness and 
American Freedom. Naturally enough, in his ignorance 
and his eagerness, he thought it could be deceived, or 
alarmed, or bribed. He produced his pass ; — he menaced 
his captors with Gen. Arnold's displeasure if they de- 
tained him longer ; — and he offered any sum they might 
name as the price of his ransom. But he stood in pres- 
ence of a power which he little understood. From the 
stern integrity, — the calm, courageous love of country, 
which filled the hearts of the plain men into whose hands 

should never get out : he meant to escape that night. He cHmbed the 
wall and got into a narrow alley, and asked a negro woman to conceal 
him. She said she would, because she was^ Whig ; and she accordingly 
hid him until the next night, when he left and reached the Spuyten 
Devil Creek, where another negro helped him across, and he eventually 
reached the quarters of his company. With six others he then obtained 
permission to go upon a scouting expedition to watch the roads for sus- 
picious persons, or for cattle and other provisions, passing towards the 
British camp — a service which a law of the State authorized and reward- 
ed. When Andre came along, Paulding thus had on a British coat ; 
and Capt. Paulding stated it as his father's opinion that this was the 
circumstance which led Andre to suppose them British, and to declare 
himself, so thoughtlessly and rashly, a British officer. 

4 



26 

he had chanced to fall, his threats and his bribes rebounded 
as the glancing blow from the shining coat of mail. 

This monument rises beneath your grateful hands, in 
commemoration of the virtue and the patriotism which 
proved thus equal to the crisis by which they were tested, 
and which saved our country from the long-meditated, 
well-aimed, disastrous blow. Such acts, such characters, 
deserve all the immortality which stone and brass, the 
spoken and the written praise, — the grateful remembrance 
of millions through the coming eras, can confer upon them. 
I perform a, painful duty when I recall to 3^our recollection 
the attempt, already noticed, to cloud the glory of the 
transcendent deed, and stain the fame of the Three by 
whom, with such infinite and acknowledged advantage to 
the country and the world, it was performed. 

The gratitude of Congress, acting upon the recommend- 
ation of Washington, and with the ehdm-ing applause ot 
the whole country, bestowed upon Paulding, Williams, 
and Van Wart, not only medals in honoi'able testimony 
of their signal fidelity to the American cause, but more 
substantial rewards in the torm of pensions for life. Not 
the faintest whisper of doubt as to the justice of this award, 
or the merit of the men who received it, was heard at that 
day, or for long years that followed after. But in 1817, — 
thirty-seven years after the occurrences, — when the pa- 
triotism and virtue of the captors of Andre had come to 
be among the choicest and most proudly cherished of the 
treasures of the country, — they were assailed in the most 
direct and emphatic language, on the floor of Congress, by 
Major Tallmadge, — who had been a faithful and highly 
trusted officer of the Revolution, — ^by whose urgent remon- 
strance Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson was induced to fore- 
go his first purpose of sending Andre directly to Arnold, 



27 

— who commanded the escort to which the captured officer 
was entrusted, attended him to the scaffold, and had fre- 
quent opportunities of free communication with him. With 
such and so many titles to credit, Major Tallmadge as- 
serted that the men who had captured Andre were of that 
class of people, known as Cow-boys, who passed between 
both armies, — as often in one camp as the other, — friendly 
to each as their interests might prompt, and without at- 
tachment or preference to either ; — that he had been told 
by Andre that, in his opinion, their search of his person 
was for plunder, and not for evidence of his character ; — 
that if he could have paid the sum demanded by them, he 
would have been released ; — and that their onlv motive in 
returning him to the American camp was the hope of a 
large reward. 

A very few words, — a brief recurrence to the slightness 
of the authority adduced in support of it, and to the strength 
of the evidence arrayed against it, will dismiss this slander 
to the reprobation it deserves. 

The charge is simply that o^ sel/isli motives in the perform- 
ance of a worthy and a useful act ; and it rests exclusively, 
not upon any facts, but upon the opinions of two men. 
First, that of Major Tallmadge, as to the general charac- 
ter of the parties concerned, from which, even if correct, 
their bad motives in this particular case would not be mat- 
ter of necessary inference ; and second, that of Major Andre, 
who is represented as having declared it as his opinion, 
that they would have released him, if he could have se- 
cured to them payment of the reward demanded. 

As to the character of the men concerned. Major Tall- 
madge did not state a single fact in support of his opinion 
that they were " as often in one camp as the other," and 
that " their only object was to pillage from both." Serious 



as it is, the allegation stands simply as his opinion, unsup- 
ported by a single fact, and fortunately repelled b}' con- 
clusive proof. In the first place, immediatel}^ upon the ap- 
pearance of the statement, sixteen inhabitants of the county 
of Westchester, aged and respected men, — of whose de- 
scendants some may be here to-day,— ^united in declaring 
that during the Revolutionary War they were well ac- 
quainted with Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, and 
John Paulding, who arrested Major Andre ; and that 
"at no time during the war was any suspicion eve?' enfer- 
tained by their neighbors or acquaintances that they, or 
either of them, held any undue intercourse with the enemy ; 
but that, on the contrary, they were universally esteemed, 
and taken to be ardent and faithful in the cause of the 
country." Certainly so far as opinion goes, this testimony 
of their neighbors and acquaintances, men who lived by 
their side and knew their daily walk, must be held 1o far 
outweigh that of an officer from a neighboring State, whose 
station, in subordinate command, was some miles north of 
their homes; who, as far as appears, had never seen or 
heard of any one of them before ; and whose judgment, 
unconsciously perhaps to himself, was undoubtedly influ- 
enced in no slight degree by sympathy for the young, 
frank, ambitious, and unfortunate officer who, while in his 
custody, had secured his cordial friendship and love. But 
in the second place, we have the declaration of Van 
Wart, given in his old age under oath, denying expressly 
that he had ever visited the British camp, or held any un- 
lawful traffic or any intercourse whatever with the enemy, 
and appealing solemnly to that omniscient Being before 
whose tribunal he was soon to appear, in declaring that 
all accusations charging him therewith were utterly untrue. 
And in the third place, in regard to Paulding, we have 



99 

» 

the known, established facts, that, far from being neutral 
between the two armies, he was three times taken prisoner 
by the British while in the American service, — twice be- 
fore and once after the capture of Andre, — the second 
time only four days before that event, — escaping both 
times and instantly in arms again ; — and that the last time, 
he was wounded and lay in the New York Hospital, until 
discharged on arrival of the news of peace. Certainly, in 
the face of such facts as these, — in the face of Washing- 
ton's commendation, the grateful action of Congress and 
the New York Legislature, the loud, unanimous applause 
of their cotemporaries, and the unbroken testimony of 
nearly forty years, — the bare opinion of Major Tallmadge, 
however sincere it might have been, as it doubtless was, 
should not operate for a single moment to their disparage- 
ment. 

As to the specific opinion of Major Andre, conveyed to 
Major Tallmadge, and by him rashly and hastily adopt- 
ed, that he believed they would have released him if he 
could have secured them payment of money, we have to 
say first, that the British Acljutant displayed but little of 
the magnanimity for which he is so highly lauded, in thus 
striving to revenge his failure by stabbing the character, 
and blackening the fame of the men to whom it was due ; 
— and next, that while it is not strange he should have so 
believed, the opinion was quite as groundless as that which 
he had formed of their character from the beginning. He 
took them to be British ; in this, he found himself mistak- 
en. He then believed that Arnold's pass would lay 
asleep their vigilance : — this hope also proved abortive — 
He offered them money and large rewards for his release, 
and believed he could thus secure it. That opinion too, 
he was compelled to relinquish. What, then, more natu- 



ral than that he should still cling to the faith with which 
he had set out, that their fidelity could be overcome, — and 
take refuge from his failure, in his own inability to give 
them required security ? And yet this opinion, upon a 
moment's though*:, is seen to be quite as baseless as the 
rest. He had it in his j)ower to give security. He offered, 
indeed, to remain in their custody, secreted wherever they 
might place him, until a messenger should go to New- 
York and return with any sum of money on which as a 
ransom they might agree. What better security could 
they desire than this? What greater reward — if this was 
their motive, — could they hope for from the American 
camp, destitute as it was of money and provisions, even 
for the immediate necessities of the troops, than the ran- 
som of a British officer would be sure to extort from the 
British Commander-in-Chief"? * 

Nothing is easier — nothing, 1 may add, is more unjust — 
than to disparage the worth and excellence of useful acts, 
by throwing distrust upon the motives of the men by whom 
they have been performed. There is no name so lofty 
that it cannot be thus assailed — no character so clear that 
it ma}^ not thus be stained. But if motives are to be judg- 
ed by facts, by attendant circumstances, and by character 
— and I know no other test so decisive and so just — I can 
recall none of the actors in our Revolutionary history who 
may defy the utmost scrutiny of such an inquisition, more 
fearlessly or more safely than the captors of Major Andre. 
Their past lives, their labors, and their sufferings, attest 
tfieir devotion to their country's cause. At the moment of 
their meeting Andre, they were engaged in the perform- 
ance of a legalized and a useful service. Not a fact has 



■•&' 



* See Appendix. 



ever been cited to disprove the averment that their search 
of his> person, and their conversation with him, were for 
the sole purpose of deciding his character, and thus upon 
the course it would be proper for them to take ; and the}^ 
returned him to the American camp, in spite of the most 
tempting offers which the peril of his position could 
prompt; in ignorance of the real importance of his rank and 
mission; without any ground for expecting any great re- 
ward; and, so far as an unprejudiced judgment can decide, 
from the sole motive of guarding the country and the cause 
they served from the unknown peril which his presence 
seemed to threaten. If the bare opinion, unsupported by 
a single fact, of their chagrined and baffled captive — pro- 
nounced, with unmanly resentment, on his way to that 
scaffold, which their detection of his crime had erected for 
him — is to outweigh all these considerations, and reverse 
the verdict of fifty years, then, indeed, is an honorable 
name among men one of the most precarious and unsub- 
stantial of earthier possessions. 

But I am conscious of giving more notice to this matter 
than it deserves. If I were in some distant land, a vindi- 
cation of the captors of Andre might be needed : but here 
in Westchester; amid the descendants of those who knew 
them well; — in presence of this large multitude assembled 
to do them honor ; — on the very spot made sacred by their 
heroic and undying act ; and in shadow of the monument 
you have erected to perpetuate the remembrance of it 
through all coming time, I know it cannot be required : — I 
only hope it may be excused. 

And now, Friends and Fellow-Citizens, your work of pat- 
riotism and of duty has been performed. This monument 
— simple, substantial, unpretending, — fit emblem of the 
men it honors, stands complete. It commemorates no 



32 

brilliant or renowned exploit ; but it signalizes an honest 
and a manly act, which turned the adverse tide of a nation's 
struggle for independence, and produced results of vast 
beneficence in that nation's history. Richly have the men 
by whom it was performed, deserved this mark of your 
patriotic and grateful recollection. Their memory will be 
cherished, and the story of their virtue will be rehearsed, 
when generations to come shall vainly seek to trace their 
names on this crumbling stone ; for what is this great na- 
tion, with its large and beneficent liberty, its growing 
grandeur, its advancing power, its uncounted blessings, 
and its bright example, but a mighty monument to the pa- 
triots who won its freedom, and laid the deep foundations 
of its tame? Loftier than the Pyramids, — grander than 
the Pantheon, — holier than that sacred temple where Eng- 
land garners up the immortal treasures of her heart, — is 
the mausoleum where their ashes rest : — for they repose 
in the soil redeemed by their blood ; the heavens, that 
smiled on their toil, in benignity bend over their grave ; — 
the freedom and the happiness of the millions they blessed, 
sound unceasingly their anthem of praise : And, 

" So sojiulehred, in such pomp they lie, 
That kings for such a tomb might wish to die." 



APPENDIX. 



So long a time has elapsed since the documents here referred to were 
originally published, that they have been very generally forgotten ; — 
and as they are important to a correct judgment of the conduct and mo- 
tives of the captors of Andre, on vfhich even Mr. Sparks, with less than 
his usual scrupulous regard for exact justice, has thrown unmerited dis- 
trust, it may not be amiss to reprint them in this connection. They 
were originally published in February and March 1817, immediately 
after the remarks of Major Tallmadge in Congress : — 

CERTIFICATE OF INHABITANTS OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY. 

We, the subscribers, inhabitants, of the County of Westchester, do cer- 
tify, that during the Revolutionary War, we were well acquainted Avith 
Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, and John Paulding, who arrested 
Major Andre: and that at no time during the revolutionary war, was any 
suspicion entertained by their neighbors or acquaintances, that they or either 
of them held any uwiue intercourse with the enemy. On the contrary, they 
were universally esteemed, and taken to be ardent and faithful in the cause of 
the country. We further certify, that the said Paulding and Williams 
are not now resident among us, but that Isaac Van Wart is a respectable 
freeholder of the town of Mount Pleasant ; that we are well acquainted 
with him: and we do not hesitate to declare our belief, that there is not 
an individual in the county of Westchester, acquainted with Isaac Van 
Wart, who would hesitate to describe him as a man whose integrity is as 
unimpeachable as his veracity is undoubted. In these respects no man 
in the county of Westchester is his superior. 

JoHNATHAN G. ToMPKiNS, aged 31 years. 
Jacob Purdy, aged 77 years. 
John Odei.l, aged 60 years. 
John Boyce, aged 72 years. 
J. Requa, aged 57 years. 
5 



34 

William Paulding, aged 81 years. 
John Requa, aged 54 years. 
Archer Read, aged 64 years. 
George Comb, aged 72 years. 
Gilbert Dean, aged 70 years. 
Jonathan Odell, aged 87 years. 
Cornelius Vantassel, aged 71 years, 
Thomas Boyce, aged 71 years. 
Tunis Lynt, aged 71 years. 
Jacobus Dyckman, aged 68 years. 
William Hammond. 
John Romer. 



ISAAC VAN wart's AFFIDAVIT. 

Isaac Van Wart, of the town of Mount Pleasant, in the County of 
Westchester, being duly sworn, doth depose and say, that he is one of 
the three persons who arrested Major Andre, during the American revo- 
lutionary war, and conducted him to the American camp. That he, this 
deponent, together with David Williams and John Paulding, had secret- 
ed themselves at the side of the highway, for the purpose of detecting 
any persons coming from or having unlawful intercourse with the enemy, 
being between the two armies ; a service not uncommon in those times. 
That this deponent and his companions were armed with muskets ; and 
upon seeing Major Andre approach the place where they were concealed 
they rose and presented their muskets at him, and required him to stop, 
which he did. He then asked them whether they belonged to his party ; 
and then they asked him which was his party ? to which he replied, the 
lower party. Upon which they, deeming a little stratagem, under such 
circumstances, not only justifiable, but necessary, gave him to under- 
stand that they were of his party : upon which he joyfully declared him- 
self to be a British officer, and told them that he had been out upon very 
particular business. Having ascertained thus much, this deponent and 
his companions undeceived him as to their characters, declaring them- 
selves Americans, and that he must consider himself their prisoner. Up- 
on this, with seeming unconcern, he said he had a pass from General 



*^ 



35 

Arnold, which he exhibited, and then insisted on their permitting him to 
proceed. But they told him that as he had confessed himself to be a 
British officer, they deemed it to be their duty to convey him to the 
American-camp ; and then took him into a wood, a short distance from 
the highway, in order to guard against being surprised by parties of the 
enemy, who were frequently reconnoitering in that neighborhood. That 
when they had him in the wood, they proceeded to search him, for the 
purpose of ascertaining who and what he was, and found inside of his 
stockings and boots, next to his bare feet, papers, which satisfied them 
that he was a spy. Major Andre now showed them his gold watch, and 
remarked, that it was evidence of his boing a gentleman, and also prom- 
ised to make them any reward they might name, if they would but per- 
mit him to proceed, which they refused. He then told them, that if they 
doubted the fulfillment of his promise, they might conceal him in some 
secret place, and keep h im there until they could send to New- York and re- 
ceive their reward. And this deponent expressly declares that every offer 
made by Major Andi-e to them was promptly and resolutely refused. — 
And as for himself, he solemnly declares, that he had not, and he does 
most sincerely believe that Paulding and Williams had not, ariy intention 
of plundering their prisoner ; nor did they confer with each other, or even 
hesitate whether they should accejJt his promises, h\it, on the contrary, they 
were, in the opinion of this deponent, governed, like himself, by a deep 
interest in the cause of the country, and a strong sense of duty. And 
this deponent further says that he never visited the British camp, nor 
does he believe or suspect that either Paulding or Williams ever did, ex- 
cept that Paulding was once before Andre's capture, and once after- 
wards, made a prisoner by the British, as this deponent has been informed 
and believes. And this deponent for himself expressly denies that he 
ever held any unlawful traffic, or any intercourse whatever with the 
enemy. And — appearing solemnly to that omniscient Being, at whose 
tribunal he must soon appear — he doth expressly declare that all accusa- 
tions, charging him therewith, are utterly untrue. 

ISAAC VAN WART. 

Sworn before me, this 28th day of January, 1817. 

Jacob Radcliff, Mayor. 



36 

JOHN PAULDING'S AFFIDAVIT. 

John Paulding, of the county of Westchester, one of the persons who 
took Major Andre, being duly sworn, saith, that he was three times, dur- 
ing the revolutionary war, a prisoner with the enemy ; — the first time he 
was taken at the White Plains, when under the command of Captain 
Requa, and carried to New- York and confined in the Sugar House. The 
second time he was taken near Tarrytown, when under the command of 
Lieutenant Peacock, and confined in the North Dutch Church, in New- 
York ; that both these times he escaped, and the last of them only four 
days before the capture of Andre ,• that the last time he was taken he was 
wounded, and lay in the hospital in New-York, and was discharged on 
the arrival of the news of peace there ; that he and his companions. Van 
Wart and Williams, among other articles which they took from Major 
Andre, were his watch, liorse, saddle and bridle, and which they retain- 
ed as prize ; that they delivered over Andre, Avith the papers found on 
him, to Col. Jameson, who commanded on the lines; that shortly there- 
after they were summoned to appear as witnesses at the head-quarters 
of General Washington, at Tappan ; that they were at Tappan some 
days, and examined as witnesses before the court-martial on the trial of 
Smith, who brought Andre ashore from on broad the sloop of war ; that 
while there, Col. William S. Smith redeemed the watch from them for 
thirty guineas; which and the money received for the horse, saddle and 
bridle, they divided equally among themselves and four other persons, 
who belonged to their party, but when Andre was taken, were about 
half a mile off, keeping a look-out on a hill ; that Andre had no gold or 
silver money with him, but only some continental bills, to the amount of 
about eighty dollars ; that the medals given to him and Van Wart and 
Williams, by Congress, were presented to them by General Washington, 
when the army was encamped at Verplanck's Point, and that they on 
the occasion dined at his table ; that Williams removed some years ago 
from Westchester County to the northern part of the State, but where, 
particularly, the doponent does not know. And the deponent, referring 
to the affidavit of Van Wart, taken on the 28th of January last, and 
which he has read, says that the same is in substance true. 

JOHN PAULDING. 
Sworn before me this Gth day of May, 1817. 

Charles G. Van Wyck. Master in Chancery. 



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